


waltz in a flat major

by qingtings_trash (qingting)



Series: Akaashi Rarepair Week 2017 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Music, M/M, Pianist! Yahaba, also late im sorry, this is so bad don't look at me, violinist! akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qingting/pseuds/qingtings_trash
Summary: “Leave him alone,” Kyoutani says. “Just let him be lonely for the rest of his life.”Yahaba scowls. ‘Shut up, Kyoutani.”The one where Akaashi finds himself falling in love with the pianist next door and the guy who sits next to him in class.





	waltz in a flat major

**Author's Note:**

> _leave me to die_

As soon as his first year of college is over, Akaashi makes the decision to find a place for next year and move out of the student dorms, immediately.

The building he finds is relatively close to school, and the landlady tells him nearly all of the tenants attend the same university as he does, so it’s a move from one student-infested place to another, but it’s fine. The rent is cheaper, he has a bathroom to himself, and best of all, he never has to speak to his roommate from last year ever again.

A week before his second year of college begins finds Akaashi standing in front of his new door. Floor 2, room 5. He’d already been inside to inspect the layout of the apartment, but now it’s filled with his stuff. The owl print curtains Bokuto bought him hang in front of the windows, their cheery smiles filling Akaashi with a sort of nostalgia. The small table in the dining nook is covered with a simple tablecloth, his desk sits at the far wall of his bedroom, and his violin case rests at the foot of his music stand. It’s more than fine.

If he’s lucky, this will be home for the next three years.

He wastes no time in unpacking the rest of his stuff, putting the meager silverware in the drawer and hanging his clothes up in the closet. The rest, the stuff he can’t sort, goes into a cardboard box labelled ‘miscellaneous’. He swears he’ll sort it out later.

By the time all this is done, Akaashi falls onto his bed, not bothering to turn the light on, and unlocks his phone. There are a few messages from Bokuto.

**Bokuto-san**

_akaaaaaaaaashiiiiiiiiii how was the move-in_

_how’s ur new place_

_invite me sometime_

_also dont forget to say hi to the neighbors_

He’ll get around to that eventually. It’s late, and all he wants to do is skip his shower and go to sleep.

>> _maybe later, Bokuto-san_

>> _it’s late already_

**Bokuto-san**

good night!!!!!!!

He doesn’t even set his phone down on his nightstand before falling asleep, screen flashing in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Yahaba swears angrily as he jams his foot in his shoe. He’s late to his very first class of the year, which is not a pleasant thing to be.

His phone buzzes with insistent texts from Watari. He doesn’t even have to check it to know the messages contain things like “where are you?” and “yahaba why are you like this”. He finally manages to put his shoe on, grabs his backpack, and snatches a piece of bread off the counter, sticking it in his mouth as he runs like the protagonist of some shoujo manga.

Thank goodness his apartment is so close to the school, so he can hop on a subway and be there in about five minutes. He slides into a random seat just as the clock turns nine, mentally cursing his professor for only offering morning classes. The seats in the back near Watari and Kyoutani had already been taken, which leaves him sitting next to a stranger he’s never met before.

He side-eyes the guy next to him. An attractive stranger, that’s for sure.

The lecture hall falls silent as the professor walks into the room, handing out syllabi and going on about something Yahaba doesn’t care enough about to listen to. _Grades are important,_ the mother inside his head chastises him. _I’m not mentally ready yet,_ Yahaba retorts. He’ll just get it from Watari later, anyways.

The rest of class is just typical first day stuff. Yahaba pulls out a page of grand staffs and messes around with the melody already penciled out on the page, humming to himself in his mind. Before he knows it, class is over and everyone is putting their stuff back into their bags and filing out the door. The guy next to him leaves almost immediately.

Watari elbows him lightly when they meet up outside. “What happened to the Yahaba from high school who was always at least ten minutes early?” he scolds. “You almost missed getting a syllabus, idiot.”

“That Yahaba is gone and dead,” Yahaba says, rubbing at his eyes. “Nine is too early anyways.”

Kyoutani snorts. “When morning practice was at six-thirty? You’ve gotten lazy.”

Yahaba shrugs. “Well, since I was almost late and I couldn’t sit next to you guys, I got to sit next to this really hot guy. Like, I didn’t take a very close look, but he was really pretty.”

Watari laughs. “Trust you to make the best out of a bad situation, eh?”

Yahaba sighs. “Well, I left something back at my apartment, so I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Alright, see you for dinner?” Watari asks.

“Yeah, see you later.” He has time before his next class to practice piano for a while. Yahaba hums the melody on his notes all the way back home.

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi thinks his ears deceive him. His neighbor, most likely a college student, not only has the money for a piano but managed to fit it in his tiny apartment too.

 _It could be a digital keyboard,_ part of Akaashi’s brain says, but the rich sound coming from next door is not electronically generated. It’s an upright, most likely. (If the piano is anything bigger than that, Akaashi will actually murder them for their money and demonic organization skills).

As far as he knows, there isn’t a music program here. He himself never expected to make a career out of the violin, and brought it along just so he could play in his free time. But his neighbor is playing through difficult pieces without a hitch. Akaashi recognizes a few of them. A Beethoven sonata here, a Bach invention there.

They’re beautiful.

He would go over and introduce himself right now if it weren’t for the fear of interrupting the music, an impromptu performance for him and his neighbor’s neighbor on the other side. He wants to hold the hands tapping on the keys, examine the fingers making this beautiful sound.

Strange thoughts, about someone he’s never met before. But if he could fall in love with a stranger, it would be by the way they played.

And then he hears the start of the next song. It’s familiar, and Akaashi’s eyes shoot wide open when he realizes he’s played this very duet before, but as the violin part. He scrambles to find his violin case, nestling the violin under his chin and waiting to come in on the repeat.

He stands next to the wall adjacent to his neighbor’s room. With bated breath, he starts playing, hoping his neighbor won’t suddenly stop playing or worse, knock on his door.

Luckily, his neighbor seems to take it in stride, and the two melodies wrap around each other to make one unified stream of music. When he finally puts his bow down, the smile on his face is unexpected.

 

* * *

 

 

Yahaba ignores his _udon_ and leans over the table, bringing his face close to Watari’s. “So, I was just playing, right, because I was bored. And like, the piece I was playing is actually a two-part piano and violin duet, but I was just playing the piano part, until one of my neighbors started playing the violin part. They knew it _perfectly,_ Watari, it was _amazing._ ”

“Wow,” Watari says. “That’s pretty cool.”

Kyoutani, whose food hasn’t come yet, picks underneath his nails. “Why didn’t you just invite them over, so you guys could actually play together?”

“Are you crazy?” Yahaba screeches. The waiter sends him a dirty look, and he shoots an apologetic smile back. He lowers his voice. “My apartment is a mess!” he hisses. “Also, I don’t actually know who they are.”

Kyoutani snorts. “Of course.”

Watari pats his head. “All the kids from Seijoh don’t really know that you’re just an awkward little duckling, huh?”

“Hey, I know some of my neighbors,” Yahaba voices indignantly.

Watari begins holding up fingers. “Well, there’s Shirabu, who you only know because you got paired up together for a lab last year, and all you do is send him memes at three in the morning because you’re a horrible person like that-”

“He deserves it,” Yahaba cuts in.

“Then,” Watari continues, ignoring him, “you know Matsukawa, because he went to Seijoh, and he doesn’t really count.”

“What about that guy with the undercut?” Kyoutani asks.

“Oh god, not Terushima,” Yahaba moans.

“So you know, like, three people in your entire building. Two of which you never talk to and one of which is our _senpai_ from high school.” Watari shakes his head. “You are a sad, sad person, Yahaba. Even Kyoutani knows more people than you.”

“That’s because you guys still live in the dorms!” Yahaba insists. “And I’ve only rented my apartment for a few months now.”

“Hold a housewarming party or something,” Watari says. “Three months late, but better late than never.”

Yahaba cocks an eyebrow. “In my tiny apartment? With my precious piano? Ohoho, no thank you.”

“Leave him alone,” Kyoutani says. “Just let him be lonely for the rest of his life.”

Yahaba scowls. ‘Shut up, Kyoutani.”

 

* * *

 

 

He spots a sheet of music on the desk next to him. His seatmate is furiously rubbing away at some notes, penning in scribbles of something in their place. Akaashi tries to glance surreptitiously at the notes adorning the page.

The guy looks frustrated, making soft huffing noises out of the corner of his mouth. He can’t stop himself from tapping a chord on the page and saying, “The fingering would be a lot more effective if you used the second inversion there instead.”

The guy looks up at him incredulously, mouth agape. “Of course!” he says finally. “How come I didn’t see that before?” He goes back to the page, editing the chords and adding a mordent to the melody, before he asks, “So you play piano too?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “No, I play the violin.”

His seatmate hums appreciatively. “How’d you know that then?”

“My mother,” Akaashi offers simply. The guy doesn’t press him for an explanation, thankfully.

“Yahaba Shigeru,” he says instead. “Nice to meet you.”

“Akaashi Keiji,” he responds in kind. “Nice to meet you, as well.”

They swap phone numbers, just in case “one of us is absent and needs notes” Yahaba says, like he wasn’t blatantly ignoring their professor’s lecture. The exchange lasts no more than five minutes, hardly long enough to get to know Yahaba well, but Akaashi can hear Bokuto chanting “ _study buddy!_ ” insistently inside his head.

“With all due respect, Bokuto-san, shut up,” Akaashi mutters.

“Hmm? What was that?” Yahaba says.

“Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yahaba is torn.

He can’t deny the way his neighbor’s music tugs at his heart, but he’s met up with Akaashi at the library a few times to study, and sometimes Akaashi will smile softly to himself after they’ve memorized a particularly challenging concept in a way that nearly rips Yahaba’s heart straight out of his chest.

“What do I do?” he asks his friends as they’re passing around a volleyball, three people inadequate for an actual game.

Kyoutani shifts into a receiving stance. “Introduce yourself to your neighbor,” he says, bumping the ball to Watari, “and then ask out whichever one is hotter.”

Yahaba chokes. He nearly forgets to pass the ball back to Kyoutani when Watari bumps it to him, laughing, “Trust you to be so blunt.”

“This is why no one ever confessed to you,” Yahaba says.

Kyoutani glowers at him. “Who said I wanted them to?”

Yahaba clears his throat. “But anyways, I haven’t known Akaashi for that long. I don’t wanna make things weird by asking him out. And what if he’s not even into guys?”

“Why do you even like him anyways?” Watari asks. “Is it just because you think he’s good-looking?”

Yahaba flushes. “It’s more than that. He seems kind of frigid at first-”

“That’s for sure,” Watari mumbles under his breath. He smiles sheepishly at the scowl Yahaba directs at him. “Sorry, continue.”

“But he’s really helpful and caring,” Yahaba says. “Observant, too, and hella smart. He likes music, too,” he whines, dropping the ball to slap his cheeks.

Kyoutani stands up straight, jams his hand in his pockets. “You said he plays the violin, like your neighbor,” he says gruffly. “What if they’re the same person?”

Yahaba scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, my life isn’t that perfect.”

“Well you wouldn’t know because you’ve never _introduced yourself to him,_ ” Watari says pointedly.

“I’ve tried!” Yahaba claims. “He’s never there when I knock!”

“Sure, Yahaba. Whatever you say,” and then suddenly Watari whistles. “Speak of the devil.”

The park is popular for jogging, so it’s not too much of a surprise to see Akaashi clad in a simple tee and shorts, running along one of the park’s trails.

“Call out to him,” Watari hisses.

“No,” Yahaba answers.

“Just call him over, it’s not that hard,” Kyoutani says.

Before Yahaba can protest, Watari suddenly raises his voice. “Wow, _Yahaba,_ you never told me that! That’s so interesting!”

Yahaba slugs Watari none-too-lightly in the shoulder, ducking behind him as Akaashi looks in their direction. “That was cheap,” he says in a strangled voice.

Watari beams. “Well, he’s coming over now.”

Kyoutani shoves him from out behind Watari as Akaashi makes his way over. “Yahaba-san,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Have you started on the assignment yet?”

Yahaba deflates a bit. _Was homework all he wanted to talk about._ “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve made some good progress on it.”

“Me too,” he replies. Then he notices Watari and Kyoutani. “Friends of yours?”

Yahaba nods.

He taps his foot nervously as the three introduce themselves. If Watari weren’t so much shorter than Akaashi, he would definitely be sending Yahaba winks over Akaashi’s shoulder. As it stands, only Kyoutani has the height to do that, and Kyoutani is no winker.

“You’re playing volleyball?” Akaashi asks.

Yahaba blinks. “Oh, yeah.” He gestures to Watari and Kyoutani. “We were on the same team in high school.”

“Ah, I played in high school too,” Akaashi says. “My school’s team wasn’t half bad, if I may say so.”

“Wanna play with us? Two on two?” Watari asks.

“Sure,” Akaashi replies.

Yahaba plays as spiker and Watari goes back to his setter roots for this game. The way they fall into play almost feels like Akaashi’s been part of their friend group for years. It’s fun to spike Akaashi’s sets, and even better bantering casually with him. They lose the set just barely, 23-25, but Yahaba finds that he doesn’t mind.

Akaashi’s cheeks are tinged red from exertion, and Yahaba wonders how any guy can look so good after working out.

After Akaashi leaves, Watari turns on him, eyes gleaming. “You gotta date him,” he says almost immediately.

“What?” Yahaba raises his voice embarrassingly high.

“It hasn’t even been six months and you’ve already scrapped fake-polite-Yahaba with him,” Watari explains. “That was real, unadulterated Yahaba right there.”

It is only then that Yahaba realizes just how gone he is for this guy.

 

* * *

 

 

>> _Bokuto-san_

>> _I need some advice_

Akaashi lets the phone fall from his fingers, hearing it land softly on the bed. He rolls over and curls with up a groan.

Bokuto gives surprisingly good advice. It’s like inside his head, he weighs what fits his advisee’s personality and what they’re willing to do, as well as how dire the situation is. Out of the twenty-three times he has asked for Bokuto’s help, Bokuto has only failed him once. It’s a fairly high success rate.

The phone’s buzzing sends tremors throughout the entire mattress.

**Bokuto-san**

?????

_what does my precious kouhai need counseling for???_

How he seems to know this is no ordinary problem is quite uncanny too.

>> _I think I might be falling in love with two people at once._

God bless Bokuto and his almost instant replies.

**Bokuto-san**

tell me abt it

So he does.

Akaashi spills everything to Bokuto, how he loves the way Yahaba’s eyes glint when he smiles but he can’t stop thinking about the sound his neighbor’s fingers make when they touch the piano. He tells him how Yahaba’s presence by his side makes something warm bubble up inside his chest. He tells him how badly he wants to know his neighbor, but he’s always gone when Akaashi knocks on his door. Or how it’s always too late in the day when he _does_ come home. Or how Akaashi might just be scared.

Mostly, he tells Bokuto how music isn’t much compared to an actual human, who smiles at him and chides him for procrastinating on his homework while he doodles in class.

**Bokuto-san**

sounds like youve already made up ur mind

He supposes he has.

 

* * *

 

 

His neighbor is playing the violin again.

Yahaba can just imagine the hands pressing the bow to the strings, every note floating suspended in the air. They threaten to make his heart spill out of his chest.

Then he imagines Akaashi playing.

Now, there’s a picture. Yahaba closes his eyes and pretends Akaashi is standing in his tiny kitchen, casually playing a simple waltz while Yahaba does his homework, the background music to their easy, flowing conversation. Or they wouldn’t even have to talk. Just enjoy each other’s presence.

If he thinks enough about it, he can imagine wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist, pressing light kisses to his neck and feeling the laugh bubble out of Akaashi’s throat-

Yahaba snaps his eyes open. _Okay, time to stop thinking about that._

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Akaashi wakes up with a throat full of sand and a head about to explode.

He’s running a fever. Akaashi clicks his tongue with displeasure. He was supposed to study with Yahaba today too.

>> _Sorry, I managed to get sick today_

>> _We can still study if you don’t mind being inside my currently disease-riddled apartment_

He regrets sending it almost immediately. ‘Disease-riddled’ isn’t the best descriptor to use when asking someone to come over.

**Yahaba-san**

take it easy lol we don’t have to study today

_lemme bring you some chicken soup or something tho_

_are u feeling ok?_

>> _It’s really not necessary. I’ll be alright._

**Yahaba-san**

come on it’ll make u feel better

_i promise_

_just give me ur address and i’ll be right over._

He relents so easily.

>> _Fine._

 

* * *

 

 

Yahaba’s already heating up the soup when his phone buzzes, presumably with Akaashi’s address. He skims the text absently before doing a double take and reading it again.

_“Unit #5.”_

Yahaba’s room is unit number six.

It seems like everything comes clicking into to place.

He can’t take the few steps between their rooms fast enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi rolls off the bed when he hears the doorbell ring.

“Coming,” he yells, hoarsely.

It’s Yahaba, like expected. What’s not expected is the strange look on his face, as well as the outstretched hand.

“Yahaba-san, what-”

“Hi, I’m Yahaba Shigeru,” he says. “Your neighbor.”

Akaashi stands there for a moment and lets everything fall into place.

Finally, he says, “Come in.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yahaba sets the container of soup down onto Akaashi’s kitchen counter. Akaashi leads him to the living room, where they sit together on the only piece of furniture in the room, a plush loveseat.

It’s awkward.

“I like your music,” they say at the same time.

 _What if they’re the same person?_ the Kyoutani in his mind asks.

“Um, wow,” Yahaba chuckles nervously. “I didn’t really expect this.”

“Neither did I,” says Akaashi.

They say nothing for a few minutes.

“Go out with me,” they say simultaneously, again.

“Okay,” Akaashi says.

Yahaba smiles. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I was right,” Kyoutani says, crossing his arms. He has a self-satisfied smirk on his face that Yahaba is itching to slap off. “You owe me Kara-Age-kun.”

“I do not!”

Watari sighs. “Welcome to the family,” he says. “The dysfunctional family that squabbles all the time and never seems to find the time to meet except to eat junk food together.”

Akaashi smiles. “Thanks.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the ennoaka i wrote a couple days ago was probably the best thing i've written in a while
> 
> this? the worst
> 
> (oh my god i had a good direction for this where did it go)


End file.
